


Defenders Phase One

by LadyintheWalls



Series: Defenders [1]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Fist (TV), Jessica Jones (TV), Luke Cage (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Defenders (Marvel TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-08-11 05:18:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16469504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyintheWalls/pseuds/LadyintheWalls
Summary: After the Avengers disbanded, New York will need new heroes to defend it.





	1. The Doctor at the End of the World

**Author's Note:**

> I set myself the challenge to incorporate some of the Marvel Netflix characters as part of the Marvel Cinematic Universe. I read that the Defenders were Marvel heroes who were often solo, but became the Defenders when they united forces. I saw that some of the team-ups included Doctor Strange, Luke Cage and Jessica Jones. As these are some of my now favorite Marvel characters, but I doubt they will meet in the Marvel cinematic universe, I wanted to make a story where they teamed up.
> 
> This will not be entirely canon compliant! I am making things up as I go, there will be some science babble and magic babble that I am completely making up for the sake of plot lines. I will also be taking liberties with some elements of the Marvel cinematic (and Netflix) universe in order to suit certain storylines. I am not trying to stay strictly canon compliant. 
> 
> The main Defenders team will include the following characters: Doctor Strange, Jessica Jones, Luke Cage, Everett Ross, Matt Murdoch (Daredevil), Danny Rand and Claire Temple. If I am able to continue with the series, there will be guest appearances by old and new favorites. 
> 
> So this world is a combination of the Marvel Cinematic Universe as well as the Netflix universe. The cast are the same and some of the events from the first seasons of DAREDEVIL, JESSICA JONES and LUKE CAGE have happened. 
> 
> Where we are:  
> 1) Bruce Banner is still MIA from the end of Avengers; Age of Ultron.  
> 2) The Avengers are disbanded after the events of Captain America; Civil War.  
> 3) Stephen Strange and Wong are trying to rebuild Kamar Taj and the ruined Sanctums after the Ancient One’s death.  
> 4) Luke Cage is out of prison. He and Claire Temple attempted a relationship, but it didn’t work out. He and Jessica Jones are now a couple.  
> 5) Matt Murdoch continues to patrol the city every night, pushing everyone in his personal life further away.  
> 6) Everett Ross is under investigation for inconsistencies in his report of the newly discovered country of Wakanda.  
> 7) Danny Rand hasn’t arrived in New York yet.  
> 8) None of the events of the shows IRON FIST, DEFENDERS, DAREDEVIL SEASON 2, JESSICA JONES SEASON 2 or LUKE CAGE SEASON 2 have happened.

Chapter 1: The Doctor at the End of the World

 

**Somewhere in the Antarctic**

 

Haze and ice and hail and winds beat against the Vostok station. Scientists and workers alike raced for shelter as night started to fall and the uninhabitable weather of the Antarctic increased. One lone figure moved away from the base, slowly and steadily into the frozen  tundra. 

 

This figure’s shelter was several miles away from the base, yet the figure made the journey by foot. Every day, without fail. This would have shocked his colleagues, except  no one knew enough about him. Most had hardly even seen his face, much less spoken to him. His home was a miserable shack, adapted from an abandoned outpost. There were no personal belongings, only the bare necessities to survive. The only items that stood out from the sea of papers and mountains of tools were two newspaper clippings. One of a group of people, smiling at the cameras. Below it the words: “New Day, New Heroes; Avengers Unite!” A publicity shot from their first year working as a team--the memory of the awkward photoshoot always made him smile. The second clipping was a picture of a woman, the one known to the world as the Black Widow. A shot of her informing the media of the most recent attack on New York city, her mouth open in the middle of her statement. Both these pictures were over the cluttered desk, the weak lamp’s light positioned so that it would shine directly on them.

The figure moved away from the desk. There were some days, he just couldn’t bring himself to linger on the clippings. He threw back his hood and caught his breath. He had scarcely started to work on the buttons of his bulky jacket when a soft voice startled him.

 

“Beautiful.”

 

He swung round, his heart skipping a beat. A hooded figure, dressed entirely in dark emerald colors, stood near his desk, inspecting one of the clippings closely. 

 

_ Looks like he just walked off the set of Lord of the Rings _ , the Doctor thought to himself.  

 

“Who the Hell are you!?” he snapped, his heart racing harder as the figure reached out and plucked the picture of Natasha off the wall.

 

He quickly scanned the intruder. His clothes were dry, no sign of snow at all despite the raging storm outside. There were only two ways into his home, and both involved quite loud and heavy doors.

 

_ How did he get in?!  _

 

“Beautiful, but deadly I imagine,” he said, twirling Natasha in his fingers. “Hence the name. Isn’t that right, Bruce?” 

 

Bruce blinked, and swallowed hard. He needed to slow his heart rate. 

 

_ Calm down. Calm down! _

 

“You got the wrong guy, pal,” he tried to sound as nonchalant as he could. 

 

“Apologies,” the figure answered, setting the photo down on the desk. Bruce tried to identify the accent, but was unable to. “Do you prefer Doctor Banner?”

 

_ This guy’s really pushing his luck.  _

 

“Or perhaps . . .” two steady hands pulled the hood back to reveal hardened features and an eerie smile, “Hulk?”

 

Heart rate getting higher and higher, dangerously close to the brink. 

 

“Look,” Bruce held his hands in a placating gesture, “You know who I am, then you know this is a bad idea, friend.” 

 

The man tilted his head, unimpressed. Then broke out into a charismatic smile. “Where are my manners.” He held out his arms and bowed low, like a friggin’ actor in the middle of Shakespeare in the Park. “Baron Karl Amadeus Mordo. At your service.” 

 

“Oooookay,” Bruce laughed at the absurdity of the stranger’s mannerisms. “Whoever you are, man, I’m out, okay?” He pointed at his former teammates on the wall. “Whatever beef you have with those guys, it’s got nothing to do with me.”

 

The intruder went on staring at Bruce, so much so he felt like he was on a petri dish, under a microscope. The keen dark eyes studying him took on a look of awe, and something akin to glee.

 

“You know,” he said casually, as if the two were old friends, “I studied in England for a time. I was very fond of the classics. Robert Louis Stevenson in particular.” 

 

Bruce rolled his eyes. “Jekyll and Hyde?  _ Really _ ?” he scoffed.

 

The man laughed. “It fascinated me. A man-- a doctor as well actually!-- fighting against his animal instincts. His darker side. Ultimately, losing the battle.” He added ominously. 

 

Bruce’s heart hammered hard, the sound reverberating in his ears.

 

“I’m more of a Stephen King guy,” Bruce answered weakly, trying to focus on his breathing. 

 

The smile lingered, and Bruce fought hard against the impulse to punch it.

 

“Let’s cut to the chase. What can I do for you, Baron?” 

 

“I want nothing from  _ you _ , Doctor.”

 

Bruce was about to retort until a shrill buzzing assaulted his brain. He clutched his head, his heart beating full pace and his mouth open in a mute scream. The only sound that could escape his tight throat was a strangled groan. He noticed the stranger’s outstretched hand, where there was a red jewel with a dull hue. The horrible sound was coming from it, though Mordo seemed unaffected. 

 

The pain brought him to his knees, and he knew the Other Guy was about to take over. In his final moments of consciousness, he thought he was fine with the big guy dealing with Mystery Joe.

 

_ Unless . . .  _

 

“It’s Mr. Hyde I want.”

 

_ NO! _

 

The stranger’s eager smile was the last thing to register in his hazy mind. Bruce fought to shut out the sound, to regain control, to reign back the beast. But the abyss called, and Bruce fell deep.     


	2. It's Just a Box . . .

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hidden deep in the vaults of CIA headquarters in Washington, something stirs.

Chapter 2: It’s just a box . . .

 

**Washington, DC**

 

The aged janitor shuffled grumpily as he dragged his cart down the long empty hallway. The ceiling was high, so high every minuscule sound resounded tenfold. Which made the squeaks from the cart’s uneven wheels screech like a banshee. Unlike the stereotypical long hallways of secret government facilities, there weren’t drain pipes dripping ominously or rust sinisterly lining the walls. It was actually a very boring, generic hallway with bland colors of white and green. 

 

The screeching cart came to a bumpy stop before high steel doors. No label over the doors, no signs or numbers anywhere. Just cold hard steel in the middle of bland eggshell white and seaweed green. Completely on auto pilot, the janitor swiped his ID card before the scanner and watched unimpressed as the large steel doors came to life and opened wide . . . very . . . very . . . slowly.

 

Buzzing overhead lights flickered on, revealing rows and rows of dusty cabinets. The contents on the shelves, cases and containers of all shapes and sizes and make, were already under a thick layer of ashen dust and cobwebs. The janitor didn’t even flinch at the sight. Instructions were to mop the floor, check the automatic lights, check the temperature (which always had to be set specifically at 55 degrees, not one number over or under), and nothing more. No windows to wipe down, no bathroom. Floors, lights, temperature. That is all.

 

_ No touchie the weird artifacts. Can do.  _

 

He went about his task, his headphones blaring jazz, his mopping in synch with the beats. Then he started and tore the headphones off. 

 

The room was empty. 

 

He could have sworn he saw something. Rather, someone. He blinked and rubbed his eyes from under his wide rimmed glasses. As clear as he could see his own hand, he swore he saw a tall figure, dressed all in yellow. Now that he thought about it, like one of those Tibetan monks.

 

He shook his head and went back to work. Just as he was pulling the headphones back on, he heard a humming. A strange deep humming, coming from the row of shelves. Someone was definitely down here!

 

He radioed security, but there was only a static response. 

 

“Hello!” He called out, gripping the mop like a weapon. “Anyone down here, you ain’t supposed to be here! It’s off limits!”

 

No response, only further humming. He took a few tentative steps forwards and peeked into the row where the noise came from. Empty, but the boards next to him were definitely vibrating, creaking and shuddering. He ventured further in. Maybe it was one of these weird knick knacks come to life. Some alien tech reactivated? 

 

Then it stopped. Both humming and vibrations stopped as suddenly as they had started. And once again, eerie silence reigned. 

 

The old man shrugged and turned back towards the exit, not realizing the end of his handle had caught onto something. The loud clatter of the steel container echoed savagely. Something snapped and the top leapt open. A box of thick dark wood crashed onto the cold linoleum floor, coming apart as it hit against the other shelf. The janitor stared at it. A box kept in an underground government facility, previously locked away in a sealed container in a high security room. 

 

No way in hell he was touching that thing.       

 

Then the humming started again, and the box pulsed with heat. Faint golden light flickered through the cracks in the wood. Something was definitely happening.    

 

“Aw, geez! I am so fired!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Old Janitor is Stan Lee's mandatory cameo :P
> 
> Rest in Peace, Stan! Thank you for such amazing stories and characters that have and continue to get me through tough times.


	3. The Earth Quakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New York is attacked!

Chapter 3: The Earth Quakes

**New York, Hell’s Kitchen**

 

Luke sighed heavily and cracked his neck. The place was coming along, but the work was slow. 

 

It had been a month since he moved to Hell’s Kitchen from Harlem. Letting Pop’s place go was hard, but at least the money let him buy this place. A new bar, a new start. It was hard work renovating everything, and expensive, but worth it in the end. It was close to some night schools, plenty of commuters from building sites thirsty after a long day’s haul, and more importantly, just a few steps away from home. 

 

He decided to call it a day and locked up. The official opening wasn’t for another month, and the workers wouldn’t be in till Monday anyway. There was no point in wearing himself out. 

 

He walked down the long hallway of his apartment building, floors creaking, damp corroding the walls. He emerged from his thoughts just in time to catch the flailing man flying out of the window labeled “Alias Investigations”.

 

“One more time, douchebag!” Jessica appeared past the shattered glass. “I don’t work for sickos! Hey, babe,” she added offhandedly as she turned back into her office.    

 

“Bitch is crazy!” the frazzled man exclaimed at Luke. 

 

Luke bit his lower lip, holding back rage at the B-word. Instead, he gripped the guy’s coat tightly and announced: “Your ride is here.” As soon as the elevator doors opened and an unsuspecting tenant walked out, the man was flung straight in, his screams of outrage drowned out by the closing doors.

 

“So what did sicko do?” Luke asked with a smile at the sight of Jessica stomping her way back with a broom and dustpan, both of which were no longer kept in the pantry because of their recurring use. 

 

“He wanted me to tail his girlfriend, thinks she’s cheating on him.”

 

“So? You do that all the time.”

 

“The guy’s got a wife! I can deal with cheating spouses, but when you want to keep tabs on your mistress, that’s just messed up.”

 

He laughed softly, and grabbed hold of the broom and dustpan. The two smiled, and went in for a gentle kiss. Both cleaning items were released and Jessica made her way back to her office. Luke got to sweeping, shaking his head with a dopey grin and basking in the lingering feel of her lips against his.

 

He couldn’t get enough of it. 

  
  


The afternoon wore on. Jessica was still at work on the computer, tracking the social media of her latest client’s kid. Luke had topped off her scotch, then cracked open a beer for himself and settled in front of the TV. A perfect lazy afternoon . . . 

 

Then the ground shook.

 

A deafening crash was heard. A quick but resounding earthquake followed, and the old building rattled. The tenants evacuated in a panic, which did not subside once cellphones were whipped out and YouTube revealed the source of the disaster. 

 

Hulk was back, and he was running rampant, tearing at buildings like they were cardboard, smashing at the concrete floor and flinging debris like frisbees. The streets were instantly filled with chaos, running masses and frantic screams in the air. Such screams were drowned out by ear shattering roars, which only further sent people into a frenzy. Those desperate for shelter fled for the buildings, those desperate for the video of the day ran back into the chaos, cellphones first. It took Luke and Jessica a moment to gather themselves.

 

A police car flying overhead did the trick. 

 

“Everyone! Move!” Luke yelled, trying to herd his fellow tenants away from the rampage. But the rampage followed. 

 

The raging monster smashed his fists down on the ground. Concrete burst in all directions. Puffs of suffocating dust rose up. The street cracked and sidewalks collapsed. The running crowds were knocked off their feet. One of the cell phone-clutching kids, bent on getting his 15 minutes of fame, had to look up from his phone to see the very real debris from a building flying right towards him. 

 

Too bad he had dropped his phone just as a lean brunette managed to catch the debris with her bare hands and toss it to the side as if it weighed nothing. 

 

“Scram, genius,” she snapped at him. The kid fled, crushing his phone underfoot.

 

A pole swayed dangerously, sparks flying and sizzling. A large crowd froze at the sight of it, cowering in fear. Luke grabbed hold of it before it could fall, the sparks hitting his skin having no effect. He was forced to lean it against the now empty building until it could be dealt with. Jessica appeared at his side, the two looking over their shattered neighborhood and the giant creature making its way towards them.  

 

This couldn’t be real. This was an Avenger. This was a popular figure kids dressed up as for Halloween. They’d seen him on the news, online. This was the Hulk. Destroying their street. Police cars had gathered. A SWAT team was assembling up the street. Firemen were trailing into surrounding buildings looking for injured people. But no one could get anywhere near. The green beast rampaged on, throwing everything within reach and creating a swirling storm of dust and concrete. Everyone knew nothing could stop the Hulk, except perhaps the other Avengers. 

 

But the Avengers were gone. They’d been gone for over a year. New York had to go back to dealing with catastrophes without superheroes. Here was a walking catastrophe, and it was just getting started. 

 

Jessica and Luke looked at each other as the ground shook anew and windows shattered around them. 

 

“Fuck it,” Jessica declared.

 

The two ran headfirst into the swirling chaos.

  
  


“Matt! You okay!?”

 

Foggy crawled out from under the desk, where he’d instinctually dove into as soon as the earthquake started. Matt had braced himself against the wall, one hand clutching an unsteady file cabinet. He didn’t hear Foggy however, as he was honing in on the sounds of the building’s structure settling, distant frantic screams and ear shattering roars. He actually believed his ears were shattering and had to breathe deeply to clear the pain in his head.

 

“Matt!”

 

“Yeah, yeah--Foggy, I’m fine,” his head was killing him, yet he strained to ask: “You?”

 

“That was a big one! What do you think? 6.0? At least! Right?”

 

“Didn’t feel like an earthquake,” Matt said softly, as Foggy went on rambling in post adrenaline frenzy.

 

The screams kept ringing in his ears, and sirens joined the cacophony of sounds.

 

They can handle it, he told himself. It’s what they do. Daredevil doesn’t do daylight. 

 

Foggy turned on their small TV, and a newscaster tried her best to keep her voice from shaking as her camera crew captured Hulk’s destruction. 

 

“Holy shit! That’s--that’s him! It’s Hulk! I thought he was dead!” 

 

Matt focused his attention on the TV instead, trying hard to drown out the histeria just a few streets away.

 

“What can they do! He’s just gonna rip them apart!” Foggy exclaimed, pointing at the barricade of police and SWAT assembling near the camera. 

 

Matt failed to block out his city’s shrieks.  

 

“How do you even stop that, man?” Foggy’s hands went to his head. By the time he turned around, Matt was gone. He hadn’t even heard him leave the room.

 

“Are you kidding me!?! By “you” I didn’t mean YOU, you--” he flailed helplessly, then dropped his arms in defeat. “--you jerk.”

  
  


_ Smash! Smash! Smash it all!!!! _

 

A single strain of thought went through Hulk’s hazy mind. It didn’t even register what he was smashing, what he was squeezing in his fists and pulverizing under his feet. It had been far too long, and he was relishing in the smashing. 

 

Then something latched onto his back. Thin yet powerful arms wrapped around his neck and squeezed. It felt like a choking chain. He screamed and tried to tear at the hold on his throat, but a force rammed into his stomach, knocking the air right out of him. The force from the blow sent him flying backwards, and the lithe arms released. 

 

Jessica dropped onto the cracked ground, just in time before Hulk stumbled onto the side of a building. 

 

“Babe! Warn me next time!” 

 

“Sorry, I didn’t see you! Can hardly see anything in this!” Luke wiped at his eyes. The cloud of dust was only just starting to settle.

 

Hulk recovered quickly. He huffed and puffed. He lifted himself off of the building he had just crashed into. He touched his stomach, winced at the tender area, then looked up with a glare that defined “murderous.”

 

Both Jessica and Luke alike had only one singular thought. 

 

_ Now we’re fucked.  _

  
  


With a growl, Hulk lunged. The woman dodged and slipped from his closing grip. The man moved to the side and threw another ramming punch. This one caught his jaw, sending every teeth rattling. This was getting annoying. 

 

He caught the next punch, squeezing it in his grip. Luke cried out, genuinely scared his bones might for once crack. He was lifted off the ground, his shoulder aching at the sudden weight. A snarling green scowl leaned in, hot breath scalding his face. 

 

“Puny human,” Hulk growled and made ready to rip him apart. 

 

_ No, _ the voice in his head decreed.  _ No killing.  _

 

Hulk grumbled, but he could not disobey. He settled for letting out one more scream into the puny one’s face and made to toss him like a rag doll. Then a piece of the sidewalk hit him over the head. 

 

“Drop him!” Jessica shouted, holding another hefty piece of concrete in her hand. 

 

Hulk’s mind drew a blank. His instincts said to smash the threats. But the voice was firm. 

 

_ Defend yourself. No killing.  _

 

What little willpower he held over the situation settled on a compromise. He threw the man at the woman and went on his rampaging way.

  
  


Luke’s body was indestructible. He was not used to feeling pain. Yet as he became aware of what had just happened, his fist ached dully. Then he realized he was crushing his girlfriend. 

 

“Jess! Jess, you okay?!” He scrambled off and looked around. They were quite a few feet away from where they were first standing. Jessica did not look well. 

 

“Wait!” she exclaimed, wincing at him trying to help her up. She was holding her left side, where he’d made impact. “Give me a minute.” She looked like she was struggling to breathe. “Something’s wrong.” 

 

Cold dread filled his stomach. Luke was indestructible. Jessica was not. It was easy to forget when her strength matched his. All he wanted was to get her somewhere safe, but the ground shook once more as Hulk had chosen a new building to use as a punching bag. 

 

“I know you’re hurt, babe, but I need you to get up now, okay?” Luke spoke softly, hiding his own fears. “I got you. I got you.” As gently as the moment allowed, he helped her to her feet and wrapped his arm around her, careful to avoid her sides out of fear of the injury being in her ribs.

  
  


At this, Hulk’s attention was drawn back to them. He started stomping his way back to them, casually picking up a car and grinning maniacally. The voice said no killing. He wasn’t going to kill. He was just going to throw this car in their general direction. 

  
  


Luke was about to pick up Jessica and make a run for it. He didn’t even get a chance as a red projectile hit Hulk square in the forehead, stunning him enough to stop his charge and drop the car. A figure in red followed after, slamming into Hulk’s chest feet first. The green goliath stumbled backwards, and the figure landed gracefully. 

 

“What the--” Luke started as he recognized the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen standing protectively in front of him and Jess.  

 

The Devil, red tights and all, turned to them and spoke in a clearly fake deep voice. “Go! Get out of here!” 

 

“Look alive, red!” Jessica cried out, despite being in pain. 

 

Daredevil swung round in time to dodge an incoming punch. And another and another. He used his baton like a spear, striking at the beast when there was an opening, disorientating him with each blow. This forced Hulk to start swatting blindly, finally backhanding the annoying figure away. 

 

Jessica tore from Luke and jumped back into the fray. Luke ran after her. 

  
  


The SWAT team assembled in the surrounding rooftops didn’t know how to proceed. Their bullets could do little to stop Hulk, except make sure there were no civilian casualties. They could expect no help from the Avengers, or any of Stark’s weaponries. The last thing they did expect to see were three civilians willingly throw themselves into the line of fire. The true miracle was that Hulk didn’t seem interested in attacking them directly. He could have ended it all in seconds, but instead he settled on tossing debris and pieces of cars at them. The punches never seemed to land, though their line of vision was obscured by dust clouds and obstructing objects. 

  
  


Jessica wheezed. Something was definitely broken. Every breath was pain. But Hulk still stood, no matter what they threw at him. Even Luke was getting tired. Then again, so was Hulk. His footing was uncertain, and his punches were becoming lethargic. His breathing was also becoming ragged and louder. 

 

“We just gotta keep at it,” Jessica said, in a moment of peace.  

 

“Jess, you can barely stand upright,” Luke took in a deep breath.

 

She scoffed. “I can do this all day,” and she leapt in as Daredevil slid away from another oncoming swat. 

  
  


Hulk was getting tired, it was true. And so was the voice in his head. 

 

_ Enough of this. End it.  _

 

With a final shattering roar, the irritated giant struck the ground with both fists. Jessica lost her balance and fell over. Daredevil stood strong, but raining shards from overhead windows were heading his way. 

 

“Look out!” Luke fought against the shaking ground beneath him to tackle Daredevil away from the cascade of glass.

 

His opponents down, Hulk took a victorious deep breath and started stomping off in the opposite direction.

 

Sparks started flying. Not from the poles and wires now lining the streets. From the air itself. 

 

Hulk turned back around, transfixed on the swirling circle of sparks growing before his very eyes.

 

Then the circle opened wider, and a tall figure strode through it. 


	4. A Touch of Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new player joins the fray . . . of the magical sort!

Chapter 4: A Touch of Magic   

  
  


_ Well, this day just got weirder. _

 

Luke blinked repeatedly at the sight of a circle of fireworks appearing out of thin air, and even wondered if he had a concussion when a tall man sauntered out of it, onto the cracked street as if he was taking a stroll around the block.  

 

A long crimson cloak swiveled around him. A sharp collar covered half of his face. He wore strange blue robes and old timey boots, like he just walked out of Game of Thrones. He appeared to walk leisurely, but upon closer inspection, it was clear his stance was wary.

 

Hulk seemed just as confused as the others at the sight of this strange man, striding up to the green giant and standing defiantly a few meager steps away. 

 

“Where is he?” the man called out in a commanding voice. 

 

Hulk quailed, ever so slightly, but still towered over the man. 

 

“I need you to tell me where he is!” 

Jessica stood up, still clutching at her side (which was in agony). Daredevil leapt to his feet, and offered his hand to Luke. The three drifted towards each other, watching the scene unfold, suddenly feeling very left out of this battle.

 

The circle faded. Hulk huffed at his new opponent. The tall man held out his hands in a placating maner, and spoke in a softer voice. 

 

“Doctor Banner, if you can hear me at all, I can help you,” he took a step forwards, “but I need to know where he is.”

 

Hulk actually took a step back. The challenger continued. 

 

“A man came to see you. He wore a ring. A big red ring,” the last four words emphasized as if he were addressing a child. Given Hulk’s baffled expression, it was not far from the truth. “This big red ring is controlling you. None of this,” without breaking eye contact, he pointed at the destruction around them, “is your fault.”

 

“You following any of this?” Jessica asked Daredevil, but the vigilante’s lower jaw remained in a rigid frown. 

 

Luke turned to her questioningly. “Why the hell would _ he _ know what’s going on?”

 

Jessica shrugged and pointed at Daredevil’s costume, then at the newcomer. “I don’t know. Red here. Red there. Maybe it’s a new super thing.” 

 

“You have to fight it,” the cloaked man stepped closer, just as Hulk looked away and regarded the ruined street, as if for the first time. “Fight his hold over you. Tell me where he is. And I promise you, I will stop him.”

 

Jessica noted a change in Hulk’s face. Not the confusion of a challenged beast. It was more along the lines of . . . understanding. His breathing became agitated, and one large hand clutched at his head. His massive teeth clenched, as if he was trying to remember something. The low growls started to sound like words, words struggling to put themselves together.

 

“Holy shit, is it actually working?” Jessica grabbed at Luke’s arm. The other two held their breath. 

 

“Man . . .” Hulk managed, “. . . man in . . . grrreeeen?”

 

The opponent’s face brightened, and his arms fell to his side. “Yes! The man in green. Where is he!” And he approached eagerly as Hulk bent over low and buried his face in his massive hands. 

 

“Hey, man, I wouldn’t do that!” Luke called out, bracing himself. 

 

But the haze thriving in Hulk’s mind was too thick. The memory he was trying to find slipped away. Instead, there was only the voice. The voice belonging to the man in green. And the voice was very clear in its command. 

 

_ Kill him.   _

 

Hulk’s face re-appeared from his hands. The eyes glowed red.

 

“Oh, fff--” 

 

Shields made of light appeared out of the stranger’s hands, just as the Hulk’s fists came down. He was surprisingly able to fend off the goliath’s pounding fists with his shields, but the monster had his orders, and the attack was much more savage than before. The stranger was driven backwards, until he was shoved full body into the side of a car.

 

A cable wound itself around the Hulk’s neck and Daredevil swung into view. It was a momentary delay, but Hulk caught hold of the cable and threw its helpless counter weight further down the street. He made to advance on the recovering stranger, till Luke broke a huge chunk of concrete over his head. He backhanded his attacker away, but then the third little gnat struck. Jessica was throwing bricks, as fast as her injury allowed. A car door in her direction fixed it, as she was forced to jump out of the way. 

 

The target was gone.

 

Streams of flashing light erupted from all sides, wrapping themselves around both his wrists, stretching his arms out. Hulk screamed enraged, as the cloaked figure floated--yes, floated!--towards him and gripped the sides of his head. He started mumbling words in another language, but never finished the incantation as Hulk managed to free one of his hands and caught hold of the crimson cloak. He yanked hard, and the stranger went down on the concrete. Hard.

 

He did not get back up again. 

Hulk chuckled at the sight of the stunned stranger, struggling to stay conscious while his body was completely inert. A large foot rose high into the air, fully intent on squashing. It was very likely that the last thing the stranger would have seen in his blurry vision was a giant foot. Instead, what he saw was a woman catch said foot in mid air and hold it back with her entire body. 

 

“Agh, this is--” she grimaced at the sight of the giant filthy leather-like foot that was currently way too close to her face. “This is just--wrong!”

 

Hulk pressed his leg down harder. Jess’s whole body was shaking with effort. 

 

“And so NOT what I wanted to do on my Sunday!” She used the last of her strength to shove back. 

 

Thick cable was wrapped once more around Hulk’s neck, and Daredevil followed. Squarely landing on Hulk’s upper back and pulling at the cable backwards, using his own weight. Something resembling a war cry was heard as Luke charged at the Hulk and lunged into him. 

 

The giant finally went down.     

 

The three gasped in relief and exhaustion. Victory was short lived, as an even more annoyed Hulk leapt back to his feet.  

 

_ Enough. _

 

He froze in his attack. 

 

_ Return to me.  _

 

No reaction on his face, Hulk bent his knees then propelled himself into the air. And was gone. 

  
  


Jessica knelt down next to the defeated stranger. The crimson cloak spread about him, but other crimson drops surrounded his prone figure. All color was gone from his face, and he had trouble keeping his eyes open.  

 

“He’s hurt bad,” Jessica said as Luke knelt next to her. Daredevil approached behind them.

 

It was only then they could hear the sirens again. Someone was yelling something with a speakerphone, and firemen and cops alike were assembling, assessing whether the area was safe. Jessica could not deny she was not looking forward to having to go through a police investigation. Daredevil was calculating how to disappear in broad daylight with a SWAT team looking down on him. 

 

“I’ll flag them down. Get an ambulance through,” Luke said, making to get up and race to the sirens. The stranger caught his arm. 

 

“No . . .” he said weakly. Luke knelt back down. “No, please . . .”

 

“You’re bleeding, you need help,” Luke squeezed the man’s hand in an attempt to be comforting. 

 

“No time . . .” he gasped. “No hospital . . .” 

 

“But you need--” Jessica started. 

 

“Doctor . . . no hospital . . . please . . .”

 

Voices started shouting commands. “Don’t move!” “Hands in the air!” “Drop the weapon!” They were getting closer. 

 

The stranger lifted a trembling hand slowly, clutching something in his hand. He let what looked like a marble fall and a cloud of thick fog exploded around them. 

 

By the time the cops were able to approach, and the SWAT officers could see past their useless gas masks, the four figures were gone and the area was empty. 

  
  


As soon as the fog enveloped them, Luke and Jessica were blind. It was Daredevil who lead them out of the thick cloud, as both of them supported the injured man who had very clearly wanted to avoid police questioning as much as they all did. 

 

He had managed to stay conscious as they escaped down several winding alleys, some of which even Luke and Jessica had never seen. As soon as the sirens were distant enough, his head drooped forward and his breathing slowed. 

 

Matt heard the heartbeat slow drastically. “We gotta get him help,” he said, forgetting his ‘hero voice’. 

 

“Ya think?!” Jess couldn’t help but snide. Her side was killing her and supporting a man significantly taller than herself was not helping with the pain. “He said no hospital though, and we just ran from the cops.”

 

Another wailing cop car drove past them, and the three had a moment to gather their thoughts. 

 

“It’s okay . . .” Luke started as he took a deep breath. 

 

“I know someone.” 

 

The three had to stop and exchange confused looks. 

 

They had all said the exact same thing at the exact same time. 

 


	5. The Basement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back in CIA headquarters, a mysterious artifact comes to life.

Chapter 5: The Basement 

 

**Washington, DC.**

  
  


Everett Ross trudged down the hall, files clutched in his hand. The CIA building was in a frenzy, people glued to screens, barking orders and clinging to their phones. Everyone was scrambling for answers. 

 

Everett, on the other hand, was the only one not on the case. And he couldn’t help but keep his ears keen on the conversations going on around him. He instantly switched directions as soon as he caught sight of Secretary Ross exiting one of the control rooms, a gaggle of agents at his elbows.  

 

“Sir!”

 

“Everett,” Ross greeted offhandedly, not even meeting his gaze. The data he’d just been handed held his full attention.

 

“Any update on New York?”  

 

Ross scoffed and proceeded to head back towards his office, his entourage following close behind. “The Hulk comes out of retirement to rip through a crowded neighborhood then vanishes into thin air. We got bupkis.”    

 

Despite going the opposite route Everett followed, practically jogging to keep up with the Secretary’s longer strides. “What about our new players?”  

 

Ross stopped and finally looked at Everett. The gaggle of agents comedically stumbled into each other to avoid crashing into the General. He grinned amused. “Now how do you know about that?”

 

Everett shrugged. “People talk.” 

 

“Sir, we really need to--” one of the agents urged Ross, only to be silenced with a look. 

 

“Not your department anymore, Everett,” he crossed his arms, and tilted his head. “And last I heard, you had an incident to look over in the basement.” 

 

Everett couldn’t stop a twitch of annoyance. He had been suspended from the Task Force. His security clearances limited and his responsibilities demoted. The one exciting part of his day so far had been a janitor reporting some--quote-- _really weird shit going on_ \--end quote--in one of the storage facilities. Anything to get out of his corner office for a short amount of time. But he couldn’t stand being kept out of the loop.    

 

“Temporarily, Sir,” he grit his teeth, “still need to keep up with . . . sssstuff.” He ended lamely, feeling suddenly very aware as the other agents glared at him with mistrust. 

 

Ross smiled at him like an indulgent father. “Surveillance footage shows four players on the scene. Only one we know of is this Daredevil vigilante, but New York’s on him. We got two possible superhumans, male and female, throwing blocks of concrete around like yesterday’s socks.” Ross continued to walk down the hallway, slower this time. “Player number four, not a clue. Some of our analysts are thinking Asgardian, but just because it kinda looks like Thor, doesn’t mean it _ is _ Thor.”

 

“If you’re talking super strength, there were those videos circulating last year from Harlem--” 

 

“We’re on it,  _ Ross _ ,” one of the agents, Willis, snapped, pronouncing Everett’s last name significantly different than Secretary Ross’s name. 

 

No relation, by the way. 

 

The Secretary noted the inflection and found it amusing. They had reached his office, and he kept everyone hovering at the door. “You said it yourself, Everett, the suspension is temporary. Just keep your head down and wait it out. You’ll be back up here in no time.”  

 

“Yeah, but, Sir--”

 

Ross had disappeared into his office. Once the door closed, the other agents scattered. All except Willis, who had the special pronunciation for Everett’s last name. And a very special sneer for him too, which he flaunted as he gave a side glance to the files in Everett’s hands. “Better hurry up,  _ Ross _ . That mess in the basement isn’t gonna clean itself.”

 

Everett could only press his lips in response, and turn back to his original path. 

  
  


The “basement” was the nickname for the facility’s lower level storage, where they had shoved most of SHIELD’s leftover junk and unclaimed files.

 

Conditions were strict and access limited. They had a crew supposedly dedicated to the preservation and containment of its contents. And yet one janitor knocks something over and people are in an uproar and Everett is forced to come down himself to assess the situation. Some members of the clean-up crew weren’t even inside the chamber. They were fidgeting in the hallway, yet trying very hard to look occupied. Everett rolled his eyes at them, then went in. The remaining crew were actually doing work in the chamber, checking the area for any hazardous materials and measuring the environment in the enclosed space. A young woman closed up her kit and gave him her report. While she read her data out loud, Everett looked at the sealed off area. A bunch of yellow tape surrounding . . . 

 

“A box.” 

 

“Yes, sir,” the woman interrupted herself. “Anyway, I won’t bore you with the details but the air is clean. No chemicals or radioactivity--”

 

“It’s a box,” Everett rubbed at his eyes. 

 

The woman’s eyebrow shot up at him. “Yeeeeees, sir?”

 

“Made of wood,” Everett made no effort to stop the snark. “It is a box made of wood. Just pick it up, put it back in the container and call it a day. Okay? We’re done here.”

 

“Sir! You need to see this!” The woman was significantly younger than Everett, but she showed strength in stopping him from leaving the room. “We may be in the clear, but there’s something else. Check out these EMF readings.” She showed him the numbers on a smaller gadget, but it meant nothing to him. “The energy levels in the room are high. Like power generators high. If they keep rising, it could start affecting the building’s systems.” 

 

“So this energy boost is coming from the box?” 

 

“We think so, sir, yes.”

 

“It was glowing!” an old man--the janitor, Everett deduced from his jumper--spoke up. “When it hit the ground, it started glowing. And making all these weird noises.” 

 

“Seems pretty quiet now,” Everett mumbled, still trying to wrap his head around being cautious of a wooden box he could have bought from a garage sale. “Okay, have we found any information on it?” 

 

“Nothing yet,” another agent chimed in. “Our guys upstairs are still looking, but truth be told, anything we salvaged from SHIELD wasn’t exactly labeled and all their files were wiped. We’re kinda in the dark here.”

 

After letting out a weary sigh, he started throwing out options for retrieving the terrifying box and containing it once again. The agents responded to each of the suggestions, but there were no certain solutions. 

 

“Excuse me, young lady,” the janitor pointed, “your little doohickey is going off.”      

 

The EMF device was beeping, erratically. The temperature rose. All eyes were suddenly on the box, which was glowing once more. A piercing golden light emanated from the pieces of wood. Most of the agents fled before the young agent even had time to yell: “Everybody out! Clear the room!” 

 

The gleaming light leapt from the box and rose into the air. Agents stumbled over each other to get out, some even kicking or stomping on their own colleagues to save their skin. Various beams started to shape themselves into what looked like sigils and spinning pentagrams. Sparks flew from each new circle, hovering over the room. Everett and the young woman were helping clear the storage’s only exit by getting injured agents to their feet. The old janitor, however, was glued to the spot, entranced by the light show. 

 

The sigils merged together into a single intense beam. Like lightning, it flew. 

 

The old man did not move.

 

“Get down!” Everett cried out as he pushed the old man out of the way, the golden lightning hitting him square in the back. 

 

His prone figure was completely enveloped in bright golden light. For almost a full half hour, the other agents were unable to approach. The light would intensify and shock anyone who tried to touch or get too close to the unconscious man. Once it subsided, all energy readings in the room were back to standard and the temperature normalized. 

 

Everett was fading in and out of consciousness when the medical team arrived. The young agent, who had been speaking to him earlier, helped him to his feet as the medics offered a wheelchair. He had weakly thanked her before he was wheeled away, down the long hall.  

 

She gasped when his dark blue eyes visibly shifted into bright gold for a fraction of a second. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Casting-wise, Secretary Ross is still played by William Hurt. 
> 
> New annoying character, Agent Willis, is played by Ed Helms as he appears in The Office (AKA Andy Bernard because . . . I've been rewatching a lot of The Office lately :P ) 
> 
> Stan Lee Janitor is still Stan Lee Janitor, and he is still missed. :(


	6. Off Duty Nurse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With one ally injured, the three turn to a mutual friend. Thing is . . . she's off the clock right now.

Chapter 6: Off-duty Nurse 

 

**New York**

  
  


Claire leaned against her doorway, arms crossed and a scowl on her face. 

 

Standing outside her door, awkwardly, was Jessica Jones, Daredevil (in full gear) and Luke Cage, carrying someone dressed like a Disney prince--cape and all. 

 

She breathed in deep. It was her day off, goddammit. 

 

“Bring ‘im in,” she sighed, holding out her arm to her apartment. “On the table.”

 

Luke went in first, careful with his charge. Jessica hurried to the table and shoved everything off. It made little difference, the apartment was already a mess because of the earlier Hulk-quake. 

 

Matt hovered at the door. “Sorry, we didn’t know where else to go. We couldn’t go to a hospital--” 

 

“Business as usual,” she grumbled and followed the other two. 

 

Admittedly, Matt did feel a little ridiculous shuffling nervously across a former lover’s threshold, like an awkward high schooler with a crush  _ while _ dressed as Daredevil in broad daylight. He closed the door, incredibly grateful no one saw them break into the building.  

 

“What have we got?” Claire walked up to her dining table, apparently now an operating table for costumed weirdos.  

 

“Hulk,” Luke said, “smashed him pretty good. He’s been out for a while.” 

 

“Where’s the injury?” she urged. 

 

“Mild concussion, but you really want to be looking at--” 

 

For a moment, Matt thought the stranger had woken up, but the voice sounded way too lucid. That was clearly his voice. Then he heard the others scream. 

  
  


“What the fuck!?!” Claire yelled. 

 

Luke and Jessica had practically fled to the kitchen. Claire herself fought every urge to run out of her apartment and never look back. 

 

There was a fucking ghost hovering over her dining table.

 

And it looked exactly like the unconscious man on the dining table.   

 

“Yes, this is a thing,” the ghost said annoyed, “and before you waste any more time, no, I am not a ghost, no, I am not dead but I might be soon if you don’t hurry. The concussion can wait, but there is a very nasty case of pneumothorax tension going on in there,” as he pointed to his body’s chest, “and I might have minutes left.”

 

Claire shook her head as her brain processed the information. “Not a ghost” just wasn’t enough of an explanation for what she was seeing. But her brain did understand “pneumothorax tension.”

 

“Okay,” she whispered then moved to get her medkit. “Okay, okay, okay. Um, I need to get his shirt off now!”

 

Luke and Jessica were still frozen in place, staring at the floating specter.

 

“Now!” 

 

Jessica reacted faster. She grabbed hold of the stranger’s robe and--momentarily forgetting her injury--ripped it off. Claire got to work, listening with her stethoscope and feeling around the chest. Jessica backed off a bit as the specter hovered closer. Then she snuck a glance at the bare well-toned chest.  

 

“You need his pants off too?” 

 

“No, she does not,” the specter didn’t miss a beat. 

 

“Okay, got it,” Claire worked fast, taking out a rather large needle that made Jessica cringe. “We’re gonna have to go without anesthesia.” 

 

“I can take it.” 

 

The giant needle hovered over the chest. 

 

“You’re not seriously gonna--” Jessica started. 

 

“Two inches higher,” the ghost said. 

 

“Do you mind?” Claire held up a hand to him. “I am not used to getting input from the patients.” 

 

The sharp thick tip started to puncture skin. When Jessica got the gist of what was about to happen, she walked back to Luke in the kitchen. He was not good with needles either. 

 

“Brings back some bad memories,” Jessica whispered, wishing she could delete the image of Claire’s fingers clutching a needle and digging it into Luke’s eyeball. 

 

“Yeah, it kinda does,” Luke agreed. In the afternoon light coming in from the kitchen’s window, he was finally able to look over his girlfriend. Her face had numerous fresh cuts, and a bruise deepening in color on her forehead. Not to mention he was still worried about her ribs. He felt very self aware of the fact that the only thing that took a beating from their fight were his clothes.

 

He put his arms around her. She nuzzled into his chest, exhausted. 

 

It was hard to feel romantic when a few feet away a ghost was supervising his own operation and a well known vigilante was pacing by the door. 

  
  
  


It was early evening by the time Claire got a chance to check Jessica’s ribs. The unconscious stranger was still out, patched up and recovering on Claire’s table. All they could do was wait. His ghost had vanished shortly after the process was done, and the others were left waiting in the living room, more weary than they’d realized. Luke was sprawled out on one couch while Daredevil stayed by the window, careful to remain out of sight. Claire was feeling around Jessica’s side. 

 

“Nothing broken,” she finally said. “Bruised, yes. I’d tell you to take a few days of repose, but somehow I don’t think you’ll listen.”

 

“What? I can be reasonable,” Jessica snided. 

 

“Oh, really? Going up against the Hulk? What were you thinking?” she looked to the others. “What were any of you thinking!” 

 

“Cops weren’t going to be able to do much,” Luke shrugged, “except maybe shoot up the neighborhood.”

 

“And you couldn’t wait for the military?” 

 

“What could they do?” Daredevil said softly. “No one was even trying to get close.” 

 

“Because it’s the Hulk. You know, the monster who _ broke _ Harlem a few years ago? The guy who almost killed your friend over there?” she pointed at the table. The others were quiet. “By the way, who  _ is _ your friend over there? And how can he do--what he did?”

 

“No idea,” Jessica said. 

 

“Not a clue,” Luke said, almost at the same time. 

 

“I don’t know,” Daredevil added. 

 

Claire nodded. “Oookay. Then how did you all meet?”

 

Luke sat up straight, and awkwardly cleared his throat. “Jess and I are--you know--”

 

Jessica rolled her eyes. “We’re living together.” Claire showed no emotion at this. “Hulk just happened to choose our street for his Sunday stroll. Red swooped in to join the fun. How do you two know each other?” She looked at Daredevil at this. He said nothing. 

 

“We go back,” Claire answered simply. 

 

Jessica grinned. “And I’m guessing you know who Broody McBrood-face is under there?” 

 

Daredevil looked at Jessica, his frown deepening.

 

“Maybe,” Claire answered tentatively, sensing some unwarranted tension.   

 

“I mean, seriously?” Jessica went on. “It’s just us in here. We don’t give a shit who you are. Just take that stupid thing off! I feel claustrophobic just looking at you.” 

 

“Jess . . .” Luke squeezed her leg. 

 

“Mask stays on,” Daredevil said.

 

“Even the Avengers didn’t bother with masks. What’s the big deal?” 

 

“Everyone’s entitled to their privacy . . .” a deep voice came from the table. 

 

They all turned. The tall stranger was moving, slowly. Claire rushed to his side. 

 

“He lives!” Luke announced with feigned enthusiasm as he joined her.  

 

Jessica and Daredevil exchanged glares of mistrust. 

 

“How are you feeling?” Claire asked, automatically checking him over. 

 

The stranger huffed in pain. “Like the Incredible Hulk just River danced on my chest . . .” he winced. “And my head.”

 

“I’d feel better if you let one of these guys take you to the hospital.” 

 

“Nnnnope,” he shut his eyes and let his head fall back on the table. 

 

“Your ghost literally left your body.”

 

“That was intentional. Astral projection.” 

 

“Gesundheit.”

 

The stranger opened one eye and chuckled at her. He braced himself, then sat up suddenly. 

 

“Hey, no, no no,” Claire grabbed hold of his shoulders, “stay down.”

 

“No time,” he dragged himself off the table and stood on shaky legs. On instinct, Luke appeared at his side and helped support him. The stranger’s eyes opened wider and looked up at him. “Hulk. Where is he?” 

 

“We’ve been keeping an eye on the news. Nothing so far. They just keep replaying our footage from this morning. No other area’s been attacked,” Luke answered. 

 

“That’s gonna change,” the stranger tried to stand up straight, but even his voice was strained. “It won’t be much longer, I know it.”

 

“What exactly is going on?” Jessica said. “You were talking some weird shit back there. Something about a ring?”

 

“The Ring of Eliarath,” he nodded. “It’s an ancient relic stolen from Kamar-Taj--”

 

“Okay, hold on!” Claire interrupted. “Back up a little. How about we start with names? Who the Hell are you?” 

 

“Right, sorry,” the stranger squeezed Luke’s forearm in gratitude, then pushed it away. Despite being visibly in pain, he straightened himself and stood tall. He pulled his torn robe over his mangled chest, wincing slightly at the bandaged injury. Adjusting his clothing, his cape seeming to unfurl itself, he looked more presentable-- regal even. 

 

“My name is Doctor Stephen Strange. I am a master of the mystic arts.”

 

Jessica couldn’t stop a chuckle, but after seeing the man’s proud face, she hesitated. 

 

“Is that seriously your name?” 

 

Strange half-smiled. “ ‘Fraid so. And you are?” He turned first to Claire. 

 

She was slightly taken aback at going first. “Claire Temple.”

 

He offered her hand to shake. She took it. 

 

“You saved my life,” he said, his deep voice rich and sending shivers down her spine. She wanted to look away, but his piercing gaze held her. “I owe you.” 

 

For a moment, she found herself wondering exactly what color his eyes were. Blue . . . green . . . storm grey-- 

 

Then she realized she was still holding his hand.

 

“Hrm!” she cleared her throat and let go. “Yeah, sure, sounds good.” She was embarrassed at the sight of Luke and Jessica smirking. But she took a tiny bit of pleasure as she glanced at Matt, who did not look amused. At all.    

 

“Luke Cage,” Luke introduced himself, also shaking his hand. 

 

“Jessica Jones.” She made no move to come closer, just waved from where she was. 

 

This time, Strange couldn’t hold back a chuckle. He looked back and forth at the couple and smiled. 

 

“That’s it? Just--no secret identities? No super names?” 

 

“We’re not supers,” Luke answered. “We’re just--us.”

 

“Concerned citizens,” Jessica snarked. 

 

“Oh, but you’re not, are you,” Strange went on, a Cheshire-like grin spreading across his face. It wasn’t mischievous, just intrigued. He turned to Luke. “I saw you take a piece of sidewalk and smash it over the Hulk’s head.” Then to Jessica; “You stopped a giant foot with your whole body.” 

 

“Doesn’t sound as cool,” she grumbled.  

 

Strange looked up at the skulking figure by the window. “And you. The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.” 

 

“He hates that name,” Claire started, “this is Ma--”

 

“Daredevil.”

 

He spoke the name abruptly and with finality. Claire stared at him.   

 

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” Strange remarked.

  
  


Aside from the need to get decompression on a Pneumothorax Tension in his lung due to a green giant slamming him into the pavement, Stephen was admittedly intrigued. 

 

He knew of the Avengers. Like everyone else, he’d been intrigued by the thought of god-like humans. He’d read a few case studies on Doctor Bruce Banner and his gamma ray incident. He’d read medical journals speculating on the Super Soldier Serum that made a weak man into Captain America. He’d rolled his eyes at colleagues paying money for seminars on how to recreate said serum for the sake of medicine, or how to use gamma radiation to cure cancer. The science always seemed too implausible for him, and he wasn’t naive. Assuming there were any advances on either of those, the military would be all over it.

 

And yet here were three people with superhuman strength and skills, dressed in everyday clothes (except for the vigilante in tights over there), who just went up against the Hulk. 

 

He wanted so badly to ask them about their abilities. Were they born with them? How had they stayed out of the government’s radar? Why weren’t they enrolled in some kind of super secret soldier program? 

 

But Mordo took precedence. Mordo had to be stopped. 

 

He told himself this as he made a quick trip to the Sanctum, even leaving the portal open behind him. Finding the last bottle of the Hannubian Wine he’d stored away, he turned back to the portal to find all four people peeking wide-eyed into the open circle. He probably should have explained what he was doing, but as soon as he noticed the woman-- _ Jones? _ \-- was also injured, he simply said he had to get something and opened a portal in the middle of his host’s living room.

 

He sauntered back into the living room and offered the bottle with intricate crystal designs to Jessica. 

 

“What’s this?” she asked, still staring at the place where the portal had just disappeared. 

 

“Special wine, gift from some interdimensional allies. It has healing qualities. Should speed up your injuries,” Stephen answered. 

 

“You had me at  _ wine _ ,” and she took a swig. Then she took another longer one. 

 

“Okay, that’s good,” he took it back quickly (before it was gone!) and helped himself to some. The remaining three stared somewhat expectantly, so he mumbled, “Injured parties only.”

 

The warmth of the wine was coursing through his veins and already he could feel numbness around the wound in his chest. He was finally getting his second wind. 

 

“So, um, I’m just going to pretend that--” Claire waved her hand in the direction of the now gone portal, “--didn’t happen. You were talking about . . . Kamera Taj?” 

 

“Kamar-Taj,” Stephen corrected. “It is a secret temple in Nepal, where masters of the mystic arts learn how to protect the earth from interdimensional threats. The man I am looking for is a former master. He went rogue, and declared war on the temple. He attacked us, stole several scrolls and ancient relics. One of them, the Ring of Eliarath. Long story short, it enables its wearer to control minds.”

 

Daredevil visibly shifted uneasily. Claire could only think if she had not just had this stranger’s ghost micro manage his treatment and then open a fireworks door to another house in the middle of her living room, this would sound insane. Luke was attentive, while Jessica was struggling to not make a Lord of the Rings joke.   

 

“The former keeper of Kamar-Taj was called the Ancient One. She was my teacher. Apparently, before she died, she left something in the care of SHIELD. No idea what. Some kind of weapon or tool or . . . I don’t know,” Stephen sighed, annoyed that even after death, the Ancient One continued to test him.

 

“I thought I read somewhere that SHIELD was gone,” Claire said. 

 

“It is, but it looks like whatever it was she left is still in the government’s semi capable hands,” Stephen went on. “Only now, it is in a vault in the CIA headquarters, in Washington.” 

 

“Whoa, shit got real REAL fast!” Jessica laughed. Everyone stared at her. “Well, come on! I mean, one minute you’re all “magic rings” and “hidden temples” and then just--Boom! CIA!”

 

“Trust me, that was basically my reaction too,” Stephen said, starting to pace slowly from one side of the room to the other. “No idea what she was thinking. The masters of the mystic arts have protected the earth for God knows how long, but they’ve always stayed hidden. Never revealing the existence of magic. And yet, she used a government facility as her own personal storage space!” He took a deep breath, his rant over.

 

“Aaaanyway,” Luke interjected before the wizard would start rambling again, “what does this have to do with the Hulk?”

 

“It seems,” Stephen went on, though his frustration at the whole situation was very clear in his voice, “when she decided to leave her--whatever--in a government building, she left them something in return. A number of magical wards to protect their facilities from other magic users. No other sorcerer, except the Ancient One herself, can enter the building.”

 

The pieces clicked. “You think he wants to use Hulk to break into the CIA?”

 

“Literally,” Jessica muttered.  

 

“Well, that doesn’t make any sense,” Claire commented. “This guy has a mind control ring he could use on anybody, right? Why not just use it on someone who works in the building to grab the magic thingy? No one would even know he was there.” 

 

“Exactly,” Stephen said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

 

Claire found this annoying. “Exactly what?” 

 

“Why use the loudest most destructive force around to recover one magical item from one of the most secure buildings in the country?” 

 

“Maybe today was a test run.” 

 

Everyone turned to the brooding vigilante in the corner. It was the first time he’d spoken in some time. 

 

“He was trying out his hold on the Hulk,” Daredevil went on, “how much he could control him, how much damage he could do. But not just that. An open rehearsal. He  _ wants _ people to see.”

 

“If I can control the Incredible Hulk . . .” Stephen’s eyes met with Daredevil, “. . . What else do you think I can do?”

 

“Okay, just so we’re all on the same page,” Jessica said, “you think this guy wants to attack the CIA with Hulk as some kind of magic coming out party?”     

 

Something akin to regret and pity crossed Stephen’s features. “Mordo’s gone off the deep end. He lost faith in the Ancient One’s teachings. He started attacking former Kamar-Taj students, stealing their magic, using it for his own purposes. Warping it. First his attacks were in secret. When he revealed his new “quest” to us, it was clear he was no longer on board with staying in the shadows. I don’t know what he’s planning, or why he wants such a big show. But I do know that whatever the Ancient One stored away in that building . . . Mordo must not get it. If he did, this would affect beyond the walls of Kamar-Taj. ”

 

A moment of silence passed. Jessica took a deep breath and realized she felt no pain. She even stretched her arm out, testing how far she could go. The injury was healed. Luke continued to stare at the sorcerer expectantly, and sensing that Daredevil was also waiting for the next part. 

 

They knew this man would not be trusting them with this information for no reason. 

 

“So what are you going to do?” Luke asked. 

 

“There may be a way to reach Banner,” Stephen resumed his slow pacing. “A spell I found. It won’t override the power of the ring, but if it works, it might reach Banner’s subconscious. Enough to get him to talk to me, tell me where Mordo is hiding. One minute of lucidity, that’s all I need.” 

 

“If that works? What then?” 

 

“I find Mordo, take the ring, shatter its gem, free Banner. Then Mordo will pay for his actions.” 

 

“Okay,” Jessica nodded, still feeling her side for any lingering hurt, “that sounds good. What’s the catch?”

 

“The catch is . . . I need to get close to perform the spell.” 

 

“How close?” Luke asked. 

 

“Close. It’s what I was trying to do before he slammed me into the ground. I need to be touching him and with some time to spare in order for the spell to reach him.” Stephen shuffled. “And as today proved, I can’t do that alone.”

 

Claire bit her lip nervously and turned to look at Daredevil. The bottom half of his face showed no reaction. Jessica, however, perked up. 

 

“You want  _ us  _ to go with you?” she asked. 

 

“Wait, wait,” Claire spoke up, pointing back and forth to Jessica and Stephen, “you two are hurt. You can’t just--”

 

“Not anymore! Special wine worked!” Jessica announced, and stretched her arms out dramatically. 

 

“You want us to go against the Hulk again?” Luke asked. 

 

“I can’t make you do anything. It’s not your fight,” Stephen crossed his arms, and bowed his head. “This afternoon, you got involved not for glory or gain. But because in that moment, you  _ could _ help. Because it was the right thing to do. And this isn’t something that comes natural to me, but I am asking for your help.”

 

The room was silent. 

  
  


“Offhand I can think of a hundred reasons why we shouldn’t do this,” Luke said in a low voice. They had stepped out into the hallway to talk. “But I’ll settle for two. Number one, _ you _ .”

 

“Luke, I’m fine,” she held out her arm to prove it. 

 

“It’s not just that, Jess! This is the Hulk! This guy could do some serious damage.”

 

“I’ll just have to be faster.”

 

“Number two: it’s not our fight. I mean, the whole magic stuff is already out of our league, but the CIA. CIA, Jess! What if we walk into that building and we’re not given the choice to walk out?”

 

“A year ago, you were a YouTube sensation. You have a record, you did time. There are medical records on me. Every client who comes to me knows what I can do. Do you really think they don’t already know about us, babe?” 

 

Luke was about to counter this, but he stopped himself. Jessica approached him, placed her hands on either side of his face, and made him look at her.  

 

“You and me,” she said, “we don’t hide. We fight.”

 

He sighed, holding on to her hands. He gently took one and pressed a kiss to the palm. 

 

“You sap,” Jessica scoffed. That was just  _ too  _ romantic, dammit.  

 

“We do this, you gotta promise me you’re gonna be careful,” he urged.

 

“Yeah, yeah,” she laughed. 

 

They kissed. 

  
  


Outside was getting darker, and Stephen was getting nervous. He peeled off the bandage on his chest, noticing the wound already looked like it was three months into healing as opposed to an hour. He taped it back on, noticing his hand shaking slightly. He’d used healing elements before for immediate injuries, secretly hoping they would have some effect on his hands. Yet they never seemed to, and his hands continued to tremor.

 

He’d helped Claire clear up his operating-dining room-table, though she was still nervously pottering around in the kitchen, pretending to be busy. Stephen lingered by the window, as he adjusted his robes. He realized Daredevil had been watching him from the opposite corner of the room. At least, he thought he was. Maybe it was the mask, but it just seemed like the man’s line of sight was . . . off. He could never quite tell where he was looking, much less what he was thinking.     

The door to the apartment opened.

 

“We’re in,” Luke announced as Jessica gave the thumbs up. Claire audibly sighed from the kitchen. 

 

Stephen couldn’t deny he was relieved. “We need to move then,” he said as he walked to the center of the room, “Mordo can’t enter the building, or even open a portal inside. I think I know where he’s going to strike first.”  

 

“All I’ll say is you guys get hurt, I am not patching you up again,” Claire declared as she dramatically tossed a dish rag away. 

 

“Count me out.”

 

Everyone stopped to look at Daredevil. 

 

“Dude, come on, we need all hands,” Jessica said. 

 

“I’ll only slow you down,” the vigilante went on, moving towards them. “I’ve got nothing to offer here.”

 

“You held your own pretty well,” Luke offered. 

 

Daredevil scoffed. “Hulk tossed me aside like a yoyo. I’ll be no good to you out there.”

 

Luke and Jessica continued to insist, but Stephen only offered him his hand. “Thank you,” he said, and he meant it. He couldn’t read the man, so he saw no point in trying to convince him. 

 

Daredevil shook his hand, with a firm grip. 

 

Stephen took his stance, held up the arm with the sling ring, and with the other conjured a portal. Up close, Luke and Jessica couldn’t help but stand back from the spherical mass of sparks growing before them. The sight was unreal. Though it looked like a fireworks display going off in Claire’s living room, there was no heat, just the force from the swirling wind. And right in front of them, where the couch should be, was an empty lot. 

 

Stephen held out his arm towards the portal. 

 

“After you,” he said. 

 

With one final awkward wave to Claire--who could only wave back-- and not without hesitation, the two stepped through.

 

Nodding to both Claire and Daredevil, Stephen followed. 

 

The portal closed. 

  
  


“Well, that happened,” Claire said after the silence had gone on far too long. She had walked out from her kitchen and approached Matt, who hadn’t moved from his spot. 

 

“I had already wrapped my head around aliens, after the incident. Super men and women after I met those two. But wizards? I forgot to ask him if Hogwarts exists too.” 

 

Matt smirked, half heartedly.  

 

“Why didn’t you--”

 

“I have to go,” he said abruptly.

 

She glared at him. “Of course you do.” 

 

He made his way to the window and opened it. He could feel her eyes boring into his back. 

 

“I won’t bother you again,” he said. 

 

“Yeah, I’ve heard that before.” 

 

He paused for a moment, then climbed out the window. 

 

“Leave it open,” she said. 

 

The fire escape was empty. 

 

“Take care, Matt,” she whispered to the cold night air. 

 

She knew he heard.


	7. Of a Second Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The contents of the mystery box have an interesting effect on agent Everett Ross . . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone who's keeping track, apologies for not updating last week. It was finals week and therefore a bit hectic! Gonna try to keep updating every Monday again.

Chapter 7: Of a Second Mind

 

**Washington, DC.**

  
  


Everett drummed his hands on the table in front of him. He’d been waiting in the bleak interrogation room for nearly an hour. He was used to staying in the building till late hours, most people working there usually did. But after getting attacked by a magic box of light, he really felt like going home and calling it a day. He hoped his debrief wouldn’t last long. 

 

Then his old “friend” Willis walked in the room, holding a fat folder and looking very smug. 

 

Everett sighed.  _ This is going to take a while.  _

 

“Well, well, Ross,” the other agent dropped the folder on the table, harder than was necessary, “you’ve only been back a few months and you’re already in trouble again.”

 

Everett shrugged in confusion. “What is this, elementary school? How is this trouble? It’s hardly my fault our people did such a piss poor job storing dangerous materials. The clean-up team had no idea how to even handle this situation because there’s zero--”

“You’re on probation, aren’t ya,” Willis said conversationally, leaning over the table as if they were just chatting. “It’s why you’re stuck in clean-up, isn’t it.” 

 

Everett took a deep breath to calm himself. “I’ve been cleared by Medical. The storage room has been contained. There is no reason to hold me. Aaand this has nothing to do with my suspension.”

 

“Six months ago, you’re assigned to head an undercover mission in Korea,” Willis flipped open the folder and casually flicked one page over another. Everett rolled his eyes. “Your team reports you were shot in the back during an altercation. And this is where it gets weird since two of your people claimed you were conscious and agreed to go with the Wakandan emissaries to get medical attention. But the rest of the team reported you were “abducted” as they were threatened by the emissaries to not interfere.”       

 

Everett leaned back and crossed his arms. Willis was never fond of him. He was petty and competitive. But even so, this was a ridiculous display of power. 

 

“Willis, what does any of this have to do with what happened today--”

 

“Declared MIA for almost three weeks!” Willis went on as if this was news and making mock shocked faces. “Then you came back, fully healed and with a convenient case of amnesia.” 

 

“Not amnesia, I was in recovery.” 

 

Everett blinked. Admittedly, there were holes in his cover story. Wakanda was opening its doors to the rest of the world, but even T’Challa himself had agreed they should not reveal all their secrets at once. Everett’s overnight bullet recovery was extended to a three week recovery, which was slightly more believable in terms of the equipment and technology Wakanda had made available to medical research. Officially, he also reported that all he ever saw of Wakanda was a hospital wing, and nothing more. It was great the world was getting to know this hidden gem, but to reveal too much could put the country in jeopardy. 

 

“You were shot in the back. Bullet wounds to the back don’t heal in three weeks. There wasn’t even a scar or any residual damage . . .” 

 

“You know fully well that Wakanda has unique medical technology. The Wakanda Initiative has been providing new equipment and treatments that have helped advance--”

 

“Why take a God-knows how many hours flight to Wakanda for a bullet wound when your team could have just taken you to a hospital, Everett?” Willis leaned his face on his hands. 

 

Everett resisted every urge to punch it. 

 

“I had previously met Prince T’Challa when he visited the UN. He confided in me about Wakanda’s medical technology, as well as their fusion engines for faster transportation. If I waited for the ambulance and hospital, the best case scenario is I end up paralyzed. When T’Challa offered Wakanda’s services, I had to make a decision. It was risky, but keep in mind I was also in excruciating pain.” 

 

“So why you?” And Willis pointed at him. “Why you so special?”

 

Everett took another deep breath. “What’s the theory here, Willis? I’m a spy for Wakanda? A country that thrived in peace for hundreds of years while the world tore itself to shreds?”

 

“Why not? Makes sense to me. Cuz you see, I don’t buy this whole “Kumbaya” act the king is throwing around. This country pops out of nowhere, and yet they’re still not allowing foreign dignitaries to visit? What are they hiding? Why hide in the first place?”

 

“What does that matter? They’re here now, and if you want to see life-altering injuries or terminal diseases become a thing of the past, or maybe just have your car run on fusion energy to get your ass to work on time for a change, you’re just going to have to wait and see. Now can we get to the actual debriefing so I can go home?”

 

“Oh, yeah, sci-fi level medicine and flying cars. That all sounds awesome, Everett, but you see, I’m more worried about the other stuff you can do with that technology.” 

 

_ Of course. Weapons _ . Everett rubbed his face in annoyance. 

 

“They can heal a bullet wound in record time, so how fast do their bullets fly? Is it just guns or do they have other stuff? Bigger stuff?” 

Everett smiled. A smile of utter pity. Then he shook his head and thought:  _ It’s people like you, Willis, the reason the world may never fully know the grandeur of Wakanda. A country offers its hand in friendship, you can only think it means the other hand is hiding a knife. Everyone’s a threat to your fragile little ego.  _

 

“Wakanda is not a threat, Willis. Not to the United States, not to anywhere else in the world. If we’re smart, it could be its greatest ally. If we’re dumbasses, then we lose that ally. That’s all. Not gain an enemy, lose a friend.”

 

“And you just can’t stand the thought of losing your new bosom buddy, huh? I hear the King himself is pushing to end your suspension and hell, even give you a promotion.” The douche leaned back on his chair, placing his hands behind his head. “Must be soooo nice having friends in high--”

 

Willis’ smug rant was interrupted as the whole building shook. His chair gave and he fell to the floor, hard. Everett jumped to his feet.  

 

“What was that!?” the idiot on the floor yelped. 

  
  


General Ross made his way to the control room. 

 

“What is it?!” he barked. 

 

“It’s Hulk, sir!” an agent trembled, “He’s been spotted at the gates!” 

 

“Building on lockdown, now!” he ordered, two agents immediately went to work to carry out the order. He slammed his hand on another control panel. “All attack units! Arm up and assemble in the main hall!”

  
  


Everett sped down the long halls, Willis following close behind. Then the lights flickered on and off. The building rumbled once more. Once they got their footing back, Willis practically punched the elevator buttons. 

 

“What are you, an idiot?!” Everett shouted as he pushed the doors to the stairs. Willis groaned and followed after him. There were A LOT of stairs. 

 

They were soon joined by armed members of the task force, making their way to the main hall.

 

Once at the main hall, the armed forces spread out. Everett was able to secure a gun from one of the soldiers and took his place among them for the oncoming assault. The rattling sound of clunking metal going over the windows and the doors was deafening, but all guns were still pointed at the entrance as the building shook around them.

  
  


But for Everett, everything went quiet. The people around him disappeared. The gun in his hand was gone. He was alone in an empty eerie building.

 

On instinct, he knew to turn around. Behind him was a wide staircase, leading to the front desks. All empty now. There were two long pillars framing the top of the stairs, their polished black surface standing out from the white and gray colors of the rest of the building. He approached them, at his leisure. Setting one hand on the one to the left, the stone came to life. Fiery sigils lit up on the stone’s surface. Then the pillar to the right flared up as well. Symbols pulsed with power. Everett had never seen them before and yet . . . he could read them. He knew exactly what they meant, what they could do in tandem, and why he put them there. 

 

_ Wait . . . I didn’t . . .  _

 

He shut his eyes tight, trying to shake off the illusion. When he opened them again, he was in General Ross’s office. Only it was different. Newly furnished, some things still in boxes, some pictures and commendations not even hanged yet.

 

“You keep talking about these threats . . .”

 

Everett swung round. Ross was there, fumbling with a pen on his desk, his other hand on his chair. He was wary, yet he was trying to put on a brave face. 

 

“. . . how do I know  _ you’re _ not the threat?”

 

Everett felt himself smile. 

 

“I mean,” Ross went on, “you teleport into my office. You start spewing all this nonsense about magic and other dimensions . . .”

 

_ What?!  _

 

While Ross spoke, Everett felt as if he was of two minds. One mind was his own, mired in confusion and wondering what the Hell Ross was accusing him of. At the same time, the other mind took offense to the term “teleport.” 

“It’s not teleportation,” he found himself saying. “I opened a portal. There is a difference, General Ross. And if I were the threat,” he went on, feeling rather giddy at this conversation, “you would never have seen me coming.”

 

“Now that sounds like a threat.” 

 

Everett shrugged. “Not really. Just a fact.”   

 

Ross sat in his chair, but was clearly uneasy. Everett was pleased by this. He should be nervous. “I don’t know what arrangement you and Fury had, but this isn’t SHIELD. This is an anti-terrorism task force--”

 

“In name, perhaps. But in truth, you seek to accomplish what--in your mind--SHIELD failed to do. Manage threats to the US government, including those powerful beings who claim to serve it and yet insist on working outside the law. Is it not?”

 

Ross said nothing, but his expression showed interest. 

 

“Your world has changed, General Ross. Humans now accept that there are other worlds out there. Gods, aliens. Is it so hard to accept that there are other dimensions as well? Some mean you no harm . . .”

 

Once those words left his lips, he saw as clear as day an image flash before his eyes. 

 

_ The silent planes of Naeros, where the sand glistens like silver glass in the morning light of its two suns. . .  _

 

“. . . some are destructive . . .”

 

Another flash. 

 

_ The nightmarish realm of the Dark Dimension . . .  _

 

“. . . and some have managed to find their way into this world, which you are bent on protecting.” 

 

Flash. This time a man, with a face with infinite sorrow. And the memory of his face sent a pang of pain into Everett’s heart. 

 

_ Kaecillius . . .  _

 

“All I’m offering you is protection from these threats,” Everett paced around the room, with his hands behind his back. He walked up to the window, dark night sky outside. “And all I ask . . .” His own reflection came into focus. “. . . is one thing in return.”

 

_ What? That’s not me . . .  _

 

_ A woman. Head shaved. Pale. Thin. Fine features. Yellow robes. Blue eyes. Something on my forehead.  _

 

_ No,  _ **_her_ ** _ forehead, not me--not mine--not--  _

 

_ Some kind of symbol . . . feels like it’s carved into my skin . . . it’s burning . . . burning! _

 

He met the eyes of his reflection, and more flashes assaulted him instantly. Thousands of images, cascading one after another. And he knew them all. So many years. So many long years. They were his life. 

 

_ My life . . .???? _

  
  


“Everett, breathe!”

 

Pain burst in his skull. He was suffocating. Even opening his eyes was agony. 

 

Everett gasped for breath. He was on the floor. The General and a couple more agents surrounding him. Willis hovering over them. They helped him sit up against the wall. As he got his bearings, difficult through the pounding headache, he realized he had a nosebleed. 

 

He also realized the pounding and tremors weren’t happening in his body from the migraine. It was the building around them. 

 

He must have collapsed. The building was on lockdown, still under attack. The armed task force had all their weapons pointed at the same spot. The whole building shook with every heavy pound at the sealed gates. 

 

Hulk was still at the door. 

 

 

“Steady, easy does it,” Ross spoke softly to him, then he turned urgently to the nearest agent. “Get him back to medical!” 

 

Everett shook his head heavily, and waved helping hands away. He wanted to assure everyone he was fine, so he fought against the haze weighing down his mind and conjured the strength to speak. 

 

“ _ Tha mi glan! _ ”

 

Ross and the other agents froze. They stared at him in shock. He frowned in confusion and spoke again. 

 

“ _ Tha deag-chor! _ ” 

 

They still stared at him wide eyed. 

 

“What the Hell?! Is he having a stroke?” Willis asked. 

 

“No, it’s--” one of the agents answered, “that was Gaelic.”

 

“Gaelic?” the haze over Everett’s mind finally lifted, and things seemed clearer. “I don’t speak--I wasn’t speaking--” 

 

A roar was heard. The building quivered. 

 

“He’s breaking through!” a nervous shout rang out. 

 

“Sir, shouldn’t we evacuate?” one agent asked. 

 

“Nobody move!” Ross stood up and yelled. “Whatever happens, Hulk does not get past those doors!”

 

Everett lifted his head groggily. His gaze followed the long stairs, leading up to reception. And there were the pillars he’d walked past every day and never even gave a thought to. The pillars from his vision. 

 

“The pillars,” Everett said aloud. 

 

Ross looked down at him, his eyes anxious. 

 

“You’re protecting the Wards.” 

 

“Wards?” Willis asked estranged. 

 

“How do you know about that?” Ross demanded. 

 

“Why would Hulk go after the Wards?” Everett tried to stand, but his legs were unresponsive. 

 

Ross kneeled down to his level. Willis continued to listen in. 

 

“Who told you? How could you possibly know about the Wards?” 

 

“I--I don’t know,” Everett shook his head. “I saw you. Just now, when I--I saw you talking to someone. You had just moved into this building. She looked like a monk, and she was talking about portals and dimensions and--”

 

“Everett,” Ross lowered his voice and placed a hand on his shoulder. “The incident in the storage, the thing you were exposed to . . . was it a large wooden box?”

 

His expression was answer enough. 

 

“Did she give you a message of some kind?” 

 

“What--I don’t--” 

 

“We received reports of Hulk appearing and disappearing through the same kind of portals she used. The woman you saw. She called herself the Ancient One. She came to me when I first took the job. The Wards are supposed to stop magic users, but if one of them is using the Hulk to get in, we would be defenseless. There’s a lot of stuff in here I don’t want falling into the wrong hands, especially an enemy we know nothing about, so think! Did she give you some kind of message? Anything we can use!”  

 

“What the Hell are you talking about?!” Willis exclaimed. 

 

“Willis! Go make yourself useful!” Ross shouted, shooing him away. 

 

Before Everett could answer, the walls gave way to two massive green fists as concrete and glass exploded into the main hall. Guns started firing like mad. Bullets flew everywhere. Hulk only held up his arm to shield himself from what seemed like annoying bee bee bullets. Then he charged, head on. 

 

The armed guards stood their ground for as long as they could, but all their training was useless when up against a rampaging force as the Hulk. The giant swatted them away like flies. Agents flew in all directions, flailing like rag dolls. Even some of the heavier weaponry was destroyed in seconds, as Hulk caught the nozzle of the heavier canon-like guns (supposedly designed to stop him) and squished them in his grip like paper planes.

 

He leapt onto the long stairs, smashing several at a time. He gripped the first pillar with both hands, and the black stone crumbled. People screamed as they jumped out of the way of the falling debris. Ross and another agent helped Everett to his feet, and practically dragged him out of harm’s way. The first pillar was gone, and in under a minute, the second pillar was also obliterated.

 

Hulk roared as the work was done. 

 

Then he hunched over, panting as if exhausted. His giant arms hung at his sides, the knuckles grazing the floor. All the rage in his expression faded, and his eyes glazed over.

 

A lifeless puppet. 

 

While agents took up their guns again and tentatively approached the now docile monster, lights flared up behind him. Both Ross and Everett held their breath as they recognized a mystical portal opening wide, and a cloaked figure cradling something in its arms stepped through.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Reminder that Ed Helms, Andy Bernard from The Office, is playing Willis (because I've been rewatching The Office lately, haha!). 
> 
> 2) Everett starts speaking in Gaelic for reasons that will become more obvious in the following chapters. Translation for his phrases are: 
> 
> “Tha mi glan!” -- "I'm okay!"
> 
> “Tha deag-chor!” -- "I'm alright."


	8. Assault on Washington

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CIA headquarters are under siege by a seemingly unstoppable force . . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Deep breath!) OK! I'm here! Sorry, it was an unforseen hiatus, longer than I'd hoped. Will try to return to regular posting schedule of one chapter a week. Anyhoo, for those still here, hope you enjoy!

Chapter 8: Assault on Washington

 

The hooded figure stood, proud and threatening. His cloak of emerald green draped about him. The rest of his dark green robes and boots making him look all the more foreign in the middle of the cold grey building, contrasting harshly against the gold and red flames of the swirling portal behind him. His face remained hidden.

The goliath next to him somehow looked small and weak.

Those who had managed to grab hold of their weapon redirected their aim to the newcomer instead of the beast. At this, the man only smiled endearingly.

Ross took back his command, and walked past his agents to the foot of the stairs. Everett stood on shaky legs and tried to follow, but he had to settle for standing among the ranks in support. Willis, despite being more than capable of following his General, stayed back as well.

“Whoever you are, you are trespassing on government property! Step away from the--” Ross couldn’t believe he was about to say this: “-- _portal!_ And put your hands behind your head!”

The man shifted the bundle onto one arm to free the other, and ominously extended it along the length of his cloak, cracking his fingers as they stretched.

“Stop!” Ross ordered. “If you do not comply, we will be forced to open fire!”

The stranger froze, almost as still as his giant. The suspense and anxiety was agony for every agent in the room, their weapons starting to shake in their hands.

“I’m afraid you’ve been terribly careless with your charge,” a voice with a subtle accent spoke. A voice that sounded benevolent and kind, not at all threatening. He held out the bundle in his arm, and with the grace of a stage actor, let it fall to the ground. The splintered pieces of the shattered wooden box tumbled to the floor, some clattering down the steps.

Guns were lowered in confusion. Few in the room understood the gesture. The honeyed voice continued.

“My master would have been . . .” Dramatic pause that sent everyone’s hair on end, “. . . so very . . . disappointed.”

Then several things happened in an instant. The portal suddenly closed. Three agents bounded up the stairs, guns at the ready. Blades of light appeared in his hands. With four swift moves, all three agents were dead. Their bodies crumpled down the steps. Their throats slit.

Guns and assault weapons cocked, agents moved, shouting warnings. The man’s arms moved, elegantly and with purpose. Beams of light followed the path of each hand. His hands came together, and various waves upon waves of golden sparks spread throughout the crowd.

Everyone froze in place.

Muscles tense, limbs trembling, mouths open, eyes wide, faces frozen in horror.

The only things still in their power was their breathing--which was quickly becoming ragged, nearing hyperventilation--and their eyes, all of which roved about the room helplessly.

The man composed himself from his attack pose. Then with the same slow grace, he walked down the steps, one at a time with purposeful poise and deliberation. As he approached his captive audience, his steady hands removed his emerald hood. The face underneath was strong, handsome, unreadable. He smiled, but his eyes were fierce and intent.

Everett recalled a vague image in his mind, from his earlier psychedelic trip. Various images, in fact, of that same man through a number of years. And he knew his name.

_Mordo._

“You see,” Mordo started, his arms behind his back as if he was a professor giving a lecture, “she left something very precious in your care.”

He walked up to the frozen Ross, and spoke directly to him. “It wasn’t the box. The box is useless. It’s what was inside it.”

He walked past him and made his way among the rows of statues, every statues’ eyes following him as he passed. He continued to speak as if he was a teacher, talking down to a group of ignorant students.

“My master, the Ancient One, lived for hundreds of years. No one actually knows how long. Can your minuscule minds even attempt to comprehend the burden of so many years? So many memories?”

Everett’s heart hammered furiously. He’d been frozen as his body was preparing for a run forwards. His calves ached, and his shoulders tensed to the point of pain. His gun was clasped in both hands, and the trigger finger twitched. At least the migraine was long gone, though a dull sensation lingered behind his eyes. Out of the corner of his left eye, he could see Willis a few feet away from him. The poor sap had been frozen mid-sprint, no doubt feeling the weight on his legs far worse than Everett. His mouth hung comedically open, mid shout. He was perspiring, a lot, as the sorcerer was but a few statues away from them.

“She was very protective of her knowledge as well,” Mordo went on, stopping every now and again to examine one person, then another. “In her pursuit of it, she also strived to preserve it. Miraculously, she found a way.”

Everett was starting to connect the dots.

“Knowledge is power, they say. Well, in this case, it is a treasure.” Mordo stopped in front of one particular agent, frozen in attack pose. “What you destroyed, so callously, was its vessel. The real treasure . . . well . . .” The sorcerer leaned in close to the agent’s protective helmet. “. . . somebody in this building . . .” He gingerly removed the helmet to reveal a young female agent’s face. “. . . has taken it.”

Willis’ petrified gaze shifted suddenly to Everett.

The sorcerer traced a finger along a stray hair on the young agent’s face. “For all your sakes, I hope that person is in this room.”

Willis, I swear to God, shut up! Everett thought helplessly.

“You know who you are,” the man dropped the helmet, so that it echoed in the silent hall. “You’ve seen what I can do.” He continued to walk among the rows again, looking closely into each stunted expression. Every time he stopped, it was to remove another helmet and slam it to the ground.

“Speak now . . .” SLAM! “. . . and I will spare the rest . . .” SLAM! “. . . of your . . .” SLAM! “. . . colleagues.” SLAM!

Sweat careened down Willis’ face, down his neck. Everett tried to meet his gaze, but he could not turn his head.

“I can assure you, I mean you no harm. I merely want to reclaim what is rightfully mine.”

A squeak escaped Willis’ gaping mouth, loud enough to catch the sorcerer’s ear. Mordo turned slowly and made his way over to the frozen agent. He stared at him intently, searching for something in the agent’s eyes, which were staring back. He raised his hand to the petrified face, but before he could go any further, another strained squeak made its way out of Willis’ mouth. His eyes traveled quickly to his right. The eyes went back and forth from the sorcerer’s gaze to his right side.

Mordo turned to where the frightened eyes pointed. An agent--short, early forties, silver blond hair, gray suit--frozen with a gun poised to the ground, both hands clasping it. He stepped closer. Immediately, there was a difference. The other agents’ eyes would follow his every step, terrified to miss a single move. This man, however, was making an effort to avoid his sight.

He stepped even closer, until he stood right in front of the man. Dark blue eyes continued to avoid him, staring at the ground intently. His breathing increased, as if he was striving to keep calm. Mordo tilted his head at him, then raised his hand. It hovered inches away from the nervous agent’s face, and he shut his eyes. He conjured the mystic powers from his very being, from the depths of his core. He sought out energy to match it, and found it. Not only that. An energy he knew well. An energy he missed.

He opened his eyes, and smiled wide.

“Aaah,” Mordo whispered. He gently gripped the man’s chin then not-so-gently lifted his face upwards, forcing him to meet his gaze.

The eyes that met his were nervous, but not afraid. They were defiant.

Mordo searched those eyes, and found what he sought.

“There you are . . .” he said with a manic grin.

 

A force ripped through the hall, hitting Mordo in the chest. He was flung high into the air, back to the foot of the stairs. When he recovered, he looked up to see Strange standing at the wrecked entrance of the hall, flanked by a man and a woman.

 

“Oh, we late?” Luke remarked, looking over the mess.

Stephen conjured a counter spell and let it fly from his hands to the crowd. The people breathed in relief, free from their statue state, some falling over from their awkward stances, Willis included.

Some agents were already advancing on Mordo, but he was too quick. He raised his hand, and the red stone on his ring flared up with a blinding light.

Hulk came to life.

He looked around, recovering his senses. Then he roared as he leapt into action.

“Evacuate!” Ross yelled. “Do not engage! Evacuate the hall!”

“Get out, you morons!” Jessica yelled as she and Luke fought their way through the crowd.

“Go! Run!” Luke grabbed hold of as many as he could and shoved them towards the exit behind them.

Hulk was starting to rip off the stairs and toss them around in all directions. Some massive pieces fell in front of the entrance, blocking an easy escape. Several people were panicking and started to mass hysterically, instead of searching for another exit. The trampling and the falling rubble caused many injuries and even more hysteria.

 

Everett had recovered from his frozen stance, and swung round to see the newcomers. The tall figure stood out, and he remembered his face. At first, bedraggled, bearded and desperate. Then clean cut and proud. A name came with the memory.

_Stephen Strange._

Then chaos broke out as Hulk leapt down the stairs. Instead of running for the exit, Everett lost time in helping a flailing Willis to his feet.

“Sorry! I’m sorry!” Willis gasped like a fish out of water. “He was gonna kill us! He was gonna kill all of us!”

“Shut up, Willis!” he snapped and practically dragged him to his feet. They followed the fleeing masses to the exit, but stopped short as several concrete pieces blocked their escape.

“What do we do?!” Willis screamed.

“Climb over!” Everett yelled back. Some of the younger agents were already climbing over the concrete, and reaching back to help others.

Everett had just helped boost someone up when he caught sight of Mordo. He was still at the foot of the stairs, clutching his chest. Their eyes met, and the sorcerer’s face grew dark. Hulk had stopped his tossing to tend to his master, and Mordo clutched the gem on the ring he bore. He grit his teeth, and spoke his command without breaking eye contact with Everett.

“Bring him to me.”

Hulk’s head snapped in Everett’s direction.

_Shit!_

The giant roared and started for the exit, straight for the massed agents.

He was stopped by a punch to the gut.

“Round 2, Jolly Green!” Luke cracked his knuckles. Jessica stood next to him.

 

Mordo made to aid his monster, rid him of the two pests, but halted at a loud yell.

“MORDO!”

Strange approached him. Mordo snickered.

“Let me guess. You come to bargain?”

Stephen was unfazed. “We’re way past that, Mordo.”

He straightened up and looked over his opponent.

“It is good to see you, Stephen. You look well. How fares Kamar-Taj?”

“Stop this.”

He shrugged in mock innocence. “Stop what?”

“This,” Stephen held out his arms to the destruction and chaos around them, “whatever it is you’re planning.”

“The world is out of balance, my friend,” Mordo spoke casually, as if the two were having tea together. “I merely seek to right the scales.”

“Oh, really? Tell that to Jonathan Pangborn,” Stephen’s voice betrayed his rage at that name, remembering the man seeking help in Kamar-Taj with his mangled limbs and desperate pleas. “Tell it to the 12 students at Kamar-Taj whose magic you ripped from their very being.” The memory of Mordo’s attack on the temple, the misery he left in his wake. “Tell it to the 17 dead you left on the steps of the library.” The lifeless bodies of the masters who had tried to defend their home.

Mordo shook his head, not a hint of pity or remorse visible in his expression. “Casualties of war, nothing more.”

“What war!?” Stephen exclaimed. “This is madness! There is no war, Mordo, it’s just you! You and your delusions.”

“You once accused me of lacking imagination. It stuck with me, you know.” With his gaze, he pointed at the ruined building, the screaming agents scrambling to escape, and the green giant locked in battle with two humans who nearly matched him in strength. “I’d say I’ve broadened my horizons, wouldn’t you?”

Stephen shook his head. “Oh, yes, great planning. Risking exposure of the mystic arts to the US government just to steal some trinket the Ancient One stored away?”

“Trinket?” Mordo scoffed, then his face changed to one of surprise. “You really don’t know what it is, do you? ”

“Let Banner go,” Stephen assumed a wary stance, preparing for an attack. “Come back to Kamar-Taj. Answer for your crimes.”

He laughed, a genuine laugh of excitement at the power he wielded in that moment. “Your hands still shake, Stephen. Are you nervous?”

Stephen blinked, but his stance did not waver.

“I wonder how much more useless those fingers will become when I strip you of the power you are so unworthy of.”

And he attacked.

 

While the two wizards held their own battle, and Hulk was waylaid by the couple, most of the agents were successfully over the barricade. The only ones that remained were the wounded from Hulk’s first onslaught, and those strong enough to help lift them over the debris. Everett was one of them.

“Dammit, Everett!” he heard Ross, who was now several feet away from the building’s entrance. “Get down from there now!”

Everett was about to obey, despite several others being in need. But at that moment, Hulk had gained the upper hand over his two attackers. He’d flung Jessica several feet away, and he’d punched Luke bad enough to wind him and leave him gasping for breath. The giant was once more approaching the exit in massive strides.

There were still many that needed help over the rubble, and the rest of the agents were still massing outside. Even if he ran out of the building, there would be many more injured. Not without a moment of hesitation, Everett leapt from the high concrete and ran for the inner staircase. For a moment, the only sound he heard was his own tired breaths, resounding in the empty winding stairs. Then the doors blew away and Hulk broke through the smaller doorway. Everett ran, jumping over as many stairs as he could, leading the Hulk on a mad chase through the now empty building.

 

Jessica noticed the Hulk’s sudden change in direction. She jumped to her feet and followed. It wasn’t hard tracking his trail. The railings to the stairs were crumpled, and some of the steps caved in. She climbed about three flights of ruined stairs, until there was an almost cartoonishly Hulk-sized shape through another doorway, its door several feet away.

She went through carefully, hoping for a sneak attack. She found herself walking through several long wide hallways, throughout them all there were signs of the destructive force that had just passed.

Then she heard a cry.

She ran down the last hallway, to an open foyer lined with smashed glass. She kept to the cover of the hallway, as she caught sight of Hulk. He was there, unaware of her, clutching someone in one large hand. The man struggled in the giant grip, kicking out his legs and using his one free arm to pull at the giant fingers wrapped around his torso. Hulk ignored him and made to return to his master with his prize.

But as soon as he approached the hallway he had just come from, a chair swung out of nowhere and straight into his nose. Blood actually dribbled from one of his flaring nostrils, and with shock Hulk touched at the tender feature and saw thick green drops on his fingertips. Before he could recover, the chair struck again, this time under the chin, forcing his head back and cracking his jaw.

Everett dropped from his hand, groaning at being crushed by giant unyielding fingers. Jessica caught his arm and helped him to his feet while Hulk reeled backwards. The two ran.

“Get to the stairs!” Jessica yelled as she pushed him past the crumpled doorway and turned to face the oncoming attack.

“You go!” Everett stopped just before. “I’ll lead him away! Get everyone out!” And he ran up another level.

“What?!”

 

Luke was climbing up the stairs as quickly as he could, nursing a bruised stomach. He was still at the foot of a new flight when right before him a man ran past, up another flight. Then Hulk burst through and stomped past. Then Jessica bolted after.

“Jess?!”

“Big dude is after the little dude!” she yelled back down at him.

 

Stephen was thrown far, but his cloak prevented him from making impact with the wall. He gasped for breath. Mordo as a teacher was harsh, but as an opponent he was ruthless. The last time he fought against him was when Mordo attacked Kamar-Taj, but he had the aid of the other masters then. He had not gone up against him alone.

Mordo countered every spell, foresaw every move.

“You still fight like a beginner,” Mordo stepped around him, without having even broken a sweat. “No heart.” He beat at his chest.

Stephen wiped some blood from the side of his mouth.

“Ever the healer, not a warrior. Perhaps that is what she admired about you. But it’s warriors we need. In our world, there is no place for the weak of spirit!”

And with this final word, he threw another blast, sending Stephen reeling straight into an open portal behind him. The portal closed, and Mordo left to find his monster.

 

Said monster had been led to a higher level of the building, chasing after his target. He’d come close again, but both Luke and Jessica had tripped him and sent him flying over the railing and down the long winding stairs. Luke had stayed behind to guard the steps while Jessica kept going.

She found the escaping man leaning over, his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath.

“Chill, man, you’re good,” Jessica exhaled when she caught up with him. “We lost him.”

As if on cue, the ground beneath them quivered. Green fingers exploded through the floor, grabbed hold and pulled.

Luke had caught up in time to see both Jessica and the man falling as the ground plummeted one floor down.

The two had no choice but to roll along with the cascading pieces of linoleum and loose wires whipping around them. Hulk threw away the pieces of floor and frantically flapped away the cloud of smoke. Bruised and scratched, the two scrambled to their feet. Jessica instinctively shoved the guy behind her, and scanned what was left of the hallway to look for an escape. Hulk had them cornered.

“Jess!” Luke appeared in the gap, several feet above them.

He prepared himself to jump down, but Jessica’s voice stopped him.

“Babe! Catch!”

He paused. “Catch?! Catch wha--”

He couldn’t even finish the question before Jessica had swung round, grabbed hold of the man’s shoulders and flung him into the air, right at Luke.

Luke had no choice but to catch.

With the force of the other guy’s impact, the two toppled backwards.

Hulk tried to jump up, but Jessica threw herself head on as he was in the air, waylaying him long enough for the two men to get back up.

“Did she just throw me?!” Everett gasped.

Jessica flew through the gap in the floor-- a jump impossible for a normal human, Everett noted-- and landed a few feet away from them.

“You’re welcome,” she grumbled.

An enraged growl from the hole in the ground encouraged them to flee back to the stairs and continue their ascent.

“What’s his beef with you?!” Luke yelled as they ran up the steps.

“Not a clue!” Everett huffed.

The stairs under their feet flattened and the three found themselves falling down a slide. Luke grabbed hold of the railing with one arm, with the other he caught the agent, whose leg was gripped by Jessica.

At the foot of the now giant slide, Hulk was waiting at the ready. Mordo stood at his side, his hands held tense in some magical pose. He moved his hand violently upwards, and the giant slide tilted vertically up. The other hand made a sharp cutting movement and the railing snapped in Luke’s grip. Before they could fall again, a golden lasso looped itself around Luke’s wrist, holding them up. Strange was at the other end of the whip, at the top of the slide. The lasso pulled the three up, clinging to each other like human monkeys-in-a-barrel.

Stephen feared this. Mordo was able to manipulate the physical realm!

“Get off the stairs!” he yelled at his comrades once they were safe from the stair-slide. The three didn’t question and went through another door. Using the Vaulting Boots of Valtorr, Mordo leapt high into the air towards Stephen. The cloak levitated him to meet the attack headlong.

While occupied, Mordo still had the wits to have Hulk continue the chase.

The fight in the air tore through walls, sending both sorcerers flying out of the inner staircase and into the high ceiling of the building. The three had a good view of the airborne struggle from a higher floor, over a waist high glass railing. But they’d been too distracted by the sorcerer’s fights and acrobatics and flaming weapons that vanished into thin air, they were not prepared for Hulk cornering them.

Stephen was able to gain the upper hand and destroy one of the Valtorr boots, limiting Mordo’s movements in the air. While he was momentarily crippled, Stephen cast a hasty binding spell, keeping his rival pinned to the wall and dangling dangerously at a considerable height. At that moment, Hulk was advancing on the others. Jessica ran to meet the assault. Going off of his girlfriend’s earlier course of action, and measuring Stephen’s distance from their perch, Luke had an idea. It wasn’t his best, but they were in a tight spot.

Everett started when he was suddenly picked up, as if he didn’t weigh any more than a little kid.

“Hey, Doc!” Luke shouted at the hovering sorcerer. “Go long!”

“Are you fucking kidding me?! I’m not a football!” Everett squirmed.

Before he could throw the shorter man from the railing, a portal opened up next to them, and a glaring sorcerer held out his arm annoyed.

“Oh . . .” Luke lowered the agent, “that works too.”

Everett didn’t hesitate and ran through the open portal. Luke turned back.

“Jessica!”

Delivering one final solid kick below the belt, and dodging the responding punch, Jessica slid her way past the monster and into Luke’s arms.

The portal closed.

 

There was silence and peace. The four caught their breaths, slumped in different positions. Jessica leaned entirely on Luke, who let himself fall against the wall. Everett rested his hands on his knees--it had been a while since he’d had to run that much. Stephen leaned against a cupboard, all its contents rattling.

“Two rounds against the Hulk, not bad,” Luke said between breaths.

“Yeah, but how long till Mordor follows us here?” Jessica said.

“He can’t,” Stephen answered. “We’ve set up protective wards specifically against him, and his power. The Sanctum won’t allow him--or the Hulk--entrance.”

“The what? Where are we?” Jessica straightened up, looking around. They were in a long hallway. Dark wood, carpets, paintings and strange artifacts lined the walls. There was silence, but to Jessica it felt thick. Like something was lying in wait.

“Greenwich village.”

“We’re back in New York?” Luke moved from the wall.

“New York!?” Everett looked up.

Stephen finally remembered there was a newcomer among them. “It’s a little hard to wrap your head around, but I assure you we’re safe here. My name is--”

“Stephen Strange.”

Everett straightened up, meeting the sorcerer’s confused look.

“Sorry, you prefer “Doctor”. You were also a student at Kamar Taj. You were there to heal your hands, but I--” Everett stopped himself, then went on in a trance-like voice, “she--she saw you were meant for more.”

“Who are you? How do you know--”

The man’s face contorted in pain. He gripped either side of his head and groaned. Stephen’s medical training kicked in and he tried to get the man to tell him what was wrong, but he was unresponsive. Luke and Jessica could only watch.

“Strange!” someone dressed in similar crimson robes made his way down the long hallway. “Who are these people?!”

Everett raised his head, a trickle of blood coming from his nose.

“Wong. You’re Wong . . .”

Wong looked to Stephen for answers, but he had none to give.

“This is the Sanctum,” Everett went on in a feverish rant, his eyes roving every which way while all color faded from his face and his limbs started to fail. “ _Saoghail_ . . . _is e seo_ . . .” He looked once more at Wong, golden circles of light lining his pupils. “ _Mo charaid_ . . . _cuideachadh_ \--” And he collapsed.

The two wizards caught him in time and laid him out in the hall. The couple kept their distance, though continued to watch concerned.  
Wong checked one of the unconscious man’s pupils, seeing the lingering golden circle invading the natural dark blue. He let out a thin gasp.

“The Mïmeren . . .” he said, his voice betraying awe.

“The what?” Stephen asked.

“The mimi ring? What?” Jessica asked.

“Wong, what is it?”

His friend could not snap out of his shock. He met Stephen’s eyes, his own gaze slightly glazed as if tears threatened to fall from them.

“It has come back to us.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation notes from the Gaelic Everett speaks:
> 
> Saoghail= Sanctum
> 
> "is e seo"= "this is" 
> 
> “Mo charaid"= my friend 
> 
> Cuideachadh= help
> 
> **Note: If I'm totally wrong on this, blame Google translate, it's the only access I had to Gaelic :P


End file.
